Villainous Comeback
by Lord Mendasuit
Summary: Harry Potter, the Wizarding World's Hero and Savior was sent far away to his last remaining family by blood, in order to ensure his protection. Unfortunately for the Wizarding World, Harry had no blood relation to the Dursleys or the Evanses...
1. Chapter 1

Albus Dumbledore was facing some problematic problems, to say the least.

He had a babe in his arms, one Harry Potter by name, one he had planned to drop off at his sole remaining relatives' house, until he was stopped by his deputy Headmistress, the woman on whom he confided to stop him from mishandling what little time he had in Hogwarts. He would stop to listen to her, if only to assuage her fears, as she talked about the problems with leaving Harry with the Dursleys.

She didn't understand, didn't have all the information, and there was little time to give it to her. He'd explain to her why he had to do what he had to do in a moment, just as soon as he'd left Harry to be safe in his aunt's home.

"They're the worst sort of muggles, Albus," she reminded him, repeating a phrase she'd said before, as if she feared that he hadn't been listening. He was, far be it from him to be deaf to her, but he couldn't heed her words, not now, not when he knew better than her what needed to be done to ensure Harry's safety. "They're not even truly related," she added, as an afterthought.

This stopped Dumbledore cold, even as he was walking towards the front door of the Dursley home, number 4 Privet Drive. He blinked, before turning around and regarding McGonagall with a curious look. "Pardon?"

At this, she smiled, thinking she had an in. "It's as you heard - Lily Evans was adopted into the Evans family. She shares not a drop of blood with them."

The bearded old man blinked in confusion. "Truly?" he asked, as if wishing to ensure himself.

"Truly," she confirmed, nodding at him, "she confided in me after a particularly nasty letter from her adoptive sister. It seems Petunia had told her in a fit of jealousy and envy over her inability to use magic," McGonagall continued.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, "this isn't good. I had planned on leaving Harry with his sole remaining relatives, for it is the only way in which we could ensure his protection, both from Death Eaters looking to avenge their master as well as the fame that will surely attempt to ruin his life," he said, sounding quite disappointed that he'd be forced to go with plan C, which was to leave Harry with a wizarding family where he could run the risk of growing with a big head, like a pampered prince, or forced to live under the pressure of living up to the legends that were no doubt already forming about him.

Neither was a good prospect for a child to grow up.

"Then the Dursleys would've been a bad choice either way. They'd hate him, at best, and he'd grow up without a childhood to speak of. If they did not, they would spoil him like that brat that I told you about before. Either way, they are no good as guardians for Harry," McGonagall said, with a tone of finality that told Albus that this was the last they'd ever speak of leaving Harry with the Weasleys.

He would not disagree. Some part of him was happy that he wouldn't have to curse Harry to living under the same roof as Petunia Dursley, even if now he had no way to ensure his safety to the extent the Blood Wards could. "Perhaps..." he muttered to himself. "Minerva, did Lily ever seek her biological family?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," McGonagall said, nodding. "She tracked down her father, at least, though she never could find her mother. Her father was a small time farmer living in a nameless little village in Wales, though he has since passed. She had a brother, but as far as we know, he has been missing for ten years now," she explained.

One would think it odd that she could so readily recall personal information from any given one of her students, but those would forget that Minerva McGonagall was not known for being forgetful. Couple that with the fact that Lily Evans had been the teachers' darling pet during her stay at Hogwarts, and you could easily see why her head of house could readily recall that sort of information.

"Hm... this isn't good," Dumbledore said. "Harry's mother's sacrifice... it would need him to live with a blood relative to cement its power. There is power in blood," he added, as an afterthought.

"Well... he does have two cousins, still," McGonagall said. "I don't think Lily learned much of her cousins, and before she went into hiding, her younger cousin had also seemingly disappeared off the map, or so she told me. The older cousin lives somewhere within Britain, but we haven't been able to ascertain her location."

"I hope that such a blood relation is enough to have the wards hold, for it will have to do. Do you have a name, Minerva? I must search for them at once," Dumbledore asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Lily's father last name was Springfield."

It had to have been the first time she had seen Albus Dumbledore's eyes attempt to burst out of his skull at her pronounciation. She blinked, clearly shocked at the image.

"Was it something I said?" she muttered to herself as Albus began to walk off with the babe in arms, clearly raising his hand to call for his phoenix companion, which would offer much safer travel than Apparation.

* * *

><p><strong>Villainous Comeback<strong>

**Chapter 1: Unknown Family Ties**

* * *

><p>Dumbledore liked comfy chairs.<p>

But he couldn't sit in one right now, as he didn't know whether it'd be seen as a breach of propriety and manners to conjure a chair for himself rather than use the one offered. It wasn't very comfortable. He realized, on some level, that it might be intentionally uncomfortable, as if to put him in a more precarious position, which he already knew he was in.

He was the one making the request, after all, and all the weight of the ICW's Supreme Mugwump meant absolutely nothing in front of the Kanto Magical Association's leader, one Konoemon Konoe, as he was not dealing with a wizard.

Indeed, Konoemon was a Mage, not a Wizard, and though some would contest the difference, any who knew would be able to explain it to you.

Dumbledore had no special power here. He was just an old man, asking for a favor from another old man, and while he longed for the days when he could relax, right now he found himself more tense than ever.

"You're asking for quite a bit," Konoemon explained, raising one of his exceptionally bushy eyebrows. Dumbledore found himself momentarily mesmerized by the odd, disturbing shape of the man's head. No doubt the end result of magical experiments gone horribly wrong.

"I know," Dumbledore said, "but I promised his parents I'd guarantee his safety, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to do so. I failed them grievously already, and I will do everything in my power to not do so completely," he explained. "As such, I am willing to negotiate a price you find convenient, for this favor."

The younger of the two old men chuckled. "A nonspecific favor," he said, shaking his head, before looking at Dumbledore for a few seconds. "You know this is a breach of the non interference agreements," Konoemon stated.

"I understand this," Dumbledore said, "but there are murky and grey legal loopholes I am very much willing to utilize to ensure that this doesn't grow out of hand. They are family, after all, before they are wizards or mages," he said.

"Truth, family is very important," Konoemon said, nodding. "Very well, then, so be it. Though it is not me you must convince. He has more than earned the right to make such decisions for himself, and I know full well that each and every one of his students will support him in whichever decision he makes."

"But you know which choice he'd make, do you not?" Albus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course. Genius though he might be, he is painfully predictable at times," Konoemon said, chuckling. "I have no doubts about what his answer will be."

* * *

><p>"You agreed!?"<p>

Dumbledore winced at the volume of the yell that had shook all of them, as a dozen, if not more, teenaged girls, all clearly asian in features, came spilling through the paper doors that separated the room he'd been having his 'private' meeting with the young Springfield in.

He'd known they were there, of course, and so had the boy he'd been speaking to. He hadn't expected them to react this violently, but it hadn't been a surprise in its entirety.

"Well, he is my family, Chisame-san," Negi said, turning around to the girl who seemed to be at the bottom of the pile.

The long bearded, long haired Headmaster of Hogwarts smiled a little as he saw the brown haired girl begin to berate the boy for his irresponsibility and lack of foresight. He could detect no ill will or even real anger in her tone as she spoke. No, she spoke out of worry for her... friend, he supposed, for her teacher. Maybe she felt some sort of responsibility as a big sister figure of some sort.

Even if she was berating him as a wife would berate an irresponsible husband.

As she stopped, a flood of other people began to talk, and Dumbledore felt it'd be a long afternoon. He silently thanked Crouch for having taken the time to teach Dumbledore the basics of many languages. Specifically, though, he thanked Crouch for teaching him how to say "I'm sorry, I don't speak Language, could we use English instead?" in Japanese.

That came in extremely handy at times.

* * *

><p>Nearly an hour later, of the horde of teenaged girls and a young boy, only two and the boy remained, as they approached a small, lonely cottage in the woods.<p>

"You... What?"

Negi squirmed under the gaze of the woman who'd taught him practically everything he knew about Dark Magic. The very Tidings of Darkness herself, the Master of Puppets, the High Daylight Walker... and a plethora of other titles that she'd forgotten. Evangeline McDowell was clearly unhappy about the fact that her apprentice had just adopted his own fifteen months old cousin. "Well... He had nowhere else to go, so I-"

"Accepted before he even had the situation explained to him," Chisame said with a sneer on her face, running a hand through her face before settling two fingers on the bridge of her nose after she'd moved her glasses so they didn't bother her while she did it. "You know this idiot, if anyone needs help, he'll jump headfirst into anything."

"Well, if I had family, I wouldn't want them to wind up in an orphanage or something," Asuna commented from Negi's other side, throwing an arm around his shoulder in a silent gesture of support, and also to steady him lest he crumble in the face of Evangeline's anger.

"And how does this matter to me? It's YOUR responsibility now," Evangeline said, frowning and glaring at the three idiots, as she saw them.

"The dorms aren't a good place to raise a child. There's very little space. So..." Asuna began, with a wily smile on her face.

"Oh, no. No way. You're not dumping the kid on me! You accepted this responsibility, dammit!" the blonde yelled, pointing a dainty finger in her apprentice's face.

"B-But Master, we can't raise Harry in the dorms..." Negi said, squirming a little under Evangeline's glare. "We're already a little cramped as it is, and it's not safe for children there..."

"Oh, and it's safe for Children with me, the most dangerous criminal ever!?" Evangeline asked, rhetorically.

Negi nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! You're really nice, Master, and so strong that nobody would bother you!" he said, smiling in such a way as if he didn't, in any way, shape or form doubt that what he was saying was true.

Evangeline blushed slightly. "Nice!?" she protested.

"I don't think he's a good judge of character," Chisame commented, flatly.

"You're right," Asuna added.

"HEY! Wait- why am I protesting!? I'm not nice! I'm evil!" Evangeline said, shaking her head. "And I said no! I'm not going to take care of your brat for you! Don't bring it into my home!"

"But Master... you're the only one who has a house big enough on campus..." Negi said, before looking down for a few seconds. He took a deep breath and remembered something. "If you let us use your home, I'll lick your feet like I promised back when you accepted to train me," he said, his face morphing into a determined one.

Asuna protested, raising her hand as if to lecture him, but Negi turned to her and shook his head.

Chisame snorted. "He's done worse things for power anyway," she said, reminiscing about things she'd rather forget.

"That's not enough, boya!" Evangeline said. "If I'm going to do this, you're going to have to agree to do everything I tell you! And I'm not going to raise this kid myself, at this home, so you're going to have to move here, too!"

Asuna and Chisame both looked at each other. Before Negi could as much as say a word, both of their fists came down upside his head, and stopped him cold.

"Yeah, no. We're not letting you walk into an agreement with terms THAT open," Chisame said, simply.

"Even I'm not that stupid," Asuna said, glaring at him.

"But I have to!" Negi protested. "Besides, Master is nice. I'm sure she won't make me do anything that's very painful or humiliating... right?" he asked, turning a hopeful look towards Evangeline.

She grinned, evily, as she crossed her arms and looked at them with contempt. "Of course not, boya... you're just going to have to become my husband, is all."

"You ARE aware that's illegal, right?" Asuna asked.

"It's just a head start, Kagurazaka," Evangeline said, grinning widely. "I'll stake my claim on boya now to avoid problems when he's legal," she said, shrugging.

Chisame frowned. "You can't be thinking of accepting this," she said, looking at where Negi stood, eyes closed and thinking, a serious frown on his face.

He nodded. "You're right. I don't need to think," he said, opening his eyes. "I accept."

Evangeline promptly lost her grin. "Wa- really?" she asked, a curious expression on her face.

"Yes," Negi confirmed, nodding, with an easy smile on his face. "I like Master, so I don't think it'd be too bad to be married," he said.

Hearing this, Evangeline let out a loud, triumphant laugh that would haunt the nightmares of small children for centuries.

* * *

><p>Harry James Potter was a happy child.<p>

He lived in a small cottage in the woods of Mahora Academy City, the extremely large campus of the largest school in the entire world, which he also attended. The cottage was small only on the outside, though, as within it was a large, if still cozy, and lavish home for both him and his family. He had parents, though he didn't look like them.

There was his father, a rather tall young man of some eighteen or so years. There were minor similarities between him and his father, one of which was the hair, which on both of them was messy, though while Harry's hair would curl if he allowed it to grow long, his father's hair would fall behind his back in a cascade of spikes. The color couldn't be any more different, as Harry's hair was as dark as the night while his father's was a bright, fiery red. There were other similarities, such as their facial structures, specifically their cheekbones and chin, being similar, and their mannerisms being similar as well, but beyond that, there wasn't much to compare them with.

Particularly because while his adoptive father was rather tall, Harry found himself on the shorter end of the spectrum, when compared to his classmates at least. Given that he was an English boy comparing himself to Japanese boys, this was even more noticeable, as the height average for either country was against him.

However, if Harry had few similarities with his father, then he had none with his mother... except their height. Admittedly, this was because his mother looked, for all the world, as if she was only ten years old, which was quite distracting. She was blonde, with very long and silky smooth hair... Harry liked his mother's hair a whole lot, because it was so soft and it annoyed her a lot when he or his father ran their hands through it.

There was also her tendency to wear black, and more disturbing to Harry, the tendency to wear outfits so risqué that people'd often wondered if the woman who sometimes dropped by to pick him up from grade school was some sort of erotic cosplayer.

Oh. Hadn't mentioned that, right?

Harry's mother didn't always look like she was ten years old. Sometimes, she used her magic, her inherent power, to transform herself into an adult woman, with all that it entailed, including sizable breasts, a pert behind and of course, the stature to accompany it. Privately, Harry liked his mother's smaller form better. There were many more ways to play with her when her arms weren't long enough to keep him away without him being able to do anything about it.

Harry liked his parents a lot. His father was a hero, a very important one at that, who had once saved an entire world! And he did it because it was the right thing to do, not for the sake of a reward, or anything of the sort.

His mother, meanwhile...

Well, if his father was cool, then his mother was the coolest. Simply because she was an evil villain, and everyone knows that the villain is always cooler than the hero. They got to wear all the best, most stylysh clothes, they had the best lairs, and Harry thought that the cottage he lived in was an example of this, and failing that, he could always mention the resort palace his mother owned, and more importantly...

Villains had the best songs and the most memorable lines, as well.

So while Harry thought his father was a very cool guy and all, he was certain that his mother was a whole lot cooler. Then again, young Harry's perspective was a bit skewed. After all, he'd grown up in a household where there was a murderous doll that threatened with disemboweling every one of his classmates he brought home, and he had robot maids taking care of each and every one of his needs. His mother was the most notorious criminal of all time, with the highest bounty ever put on a criminal, and his father was the nicest and most cheerful eldritch abomination you could find on Earth.

People who met his family thought that they were quite weird, and Harry often had trouble socializing with his peers because of it, as he was always ready to fervently defend them. It didn't help that spending time in a resort that lengthened an hour into a day as well as being raised by two people who didn't know what a 'childhood' was led to Harry maturing mentally quite a bit ahead of his peers.

Fortunately, however, Harry had loads and loads of aunts, all of whom hovered around his home and visited fairly often, and who had been quite helpful and supportive of him, which helped him a lot during his younger years.

Later on, however, there was another, easier solution, when Harry showed signs of a bright enough mind that would allow Evangeline's robotic maids to tutor him so he could skip grades, and be with his peers, instead of around children.

Eventually, Harry wound up with boys no less than four years his senior, and while there was a little friction at the start, he soon made friends. He had two best friends who'd been the first to be friendly to him, on his first day, and who'd been the ones who'd basically made the experience of school worthwhile. Otherwise, he'd just have quit school to be home schooled by his mother's robot maids.

Harry's best friends were also quite fond of his home, though whether it be because of the cute robot maids, the great and plentiful food or the fact that at least one of them got along really well with Chachazero (mostly because he was an aspiring horror writer and Chachazero knew a lot about how to scare people shitless), Harry didn't know. Where you to ask them, however, they would've just told you that it was because of all of the above, as well as the size of his house allowing them to hang out comfortably, the fact that Harry owned the latest game consoles.

And it'd be a lie.

The true reason they had unanimously decided to hang out at Harry's house was simply because of his mother.

Because both boys were experiencing puberty, and it was widely agreed in their classroom that Harry Springfield's mother was a Grade S MILF. Those two were the envy of their male classmates, because their inherent niceness had allowed them to grow close to the boy whose mother was the source of many a masturbation fantasy. The fact that the two told tales of what that woman wore around the house, which was not much, had certainly helped their popularity a great deal.

Having Harry around to confirm his mother's ridiculously sexy outfits, and even pictures of it, certainly didn't hurt.

Some would wonder why Harry never reacted to the comments about his mother in a stereotypically violent fashion... and that would be because Harry understood that his mother was an evil villain, and evil villains are supposed to be sexy as all hell. Therefore, it only made sense for everyone to lust after his mother, given that she was a villain. Plus, it didn't seem to bother her, so why should he let it bother him?

Though it was a bit annoying to have everyone comment on how hot his mother was every time they saw him, due to repetition, if nothing else.

There was also some weirdness in that his father sometimes slipped and called his mother 'Master' instead of her name, but she seemed to always be happy when that happened, so he didn't mind it too much.

And his father couldn't stop crying whenever they watched the Lion King.

There was also the fact that for some reason, every time one or sometimes more of his aunties came over, he'd be kicked out of the house for the day, while they'd discuss adult matters he was apparently too young for still.

He'd tried to sneak in and listen in on their conversations, but never had quite managed it.

They must've been really fun conversations, too, because his aunts would always have the biggest smiles on their faces when they left, and his mom would always be smugly satisfied afterwards.

His father always looked really tired those days, though. Harry knew his father worked really, really hard all the time, but he never looked quite as tired as during the days when three or four of his aunties would drop by at the same time.

Maybe he'd understand when he was older. That's what they kept telling him, anyway. His mother was always on Harry's side, though, arguing that his father had started having those adult conversations not much older than Harry was, but she was always rebuked with the fact that Harry's father had special circumstances and no one should have to be in adult conversations before they were ready.

Then it became a very heated debate until they took it into the resort, usually locking it behind them.

Things were always okay after that, so Harry assumed they were just having more adult conversations. His auntie Chisame and his auntie Chachamaru seemed to have a lot of those with his mother, whenever the two dropped by, and his father was usually dragged into it unwillingly.

All in all, Harry was enjoying his life, and he was ready to continue living simply the way he was... at least, until that letter arrived.

What letter?

Well, one that should have been delivered by an owl instead of an old man, and one who invited him to a school of magic. A letter that Harry had been expecting, though he'd feared it might not come.

Finally, the time to attend Hogwarts had arrived.

* * *

><p>"You got everything?" Evangeline asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not flying all the way to Scotland to fetch your toothbrush, so you better make sure you've got everything," she said.<p>

At this, Negi scratched the back of his neck, chuckling lightly, "you've got your checklist, right?" he asked.

"Yes, I've got everything," Harry said, nodding, before walking up to his father and giving him a hug. "I'll miss you, dad," he said.

"Don't worry, we'll be seeing each other again as soon as christmas rolls around," Negi said, patting his head.

Then Harry turned to his mother and hugged her, as well. However, as they were nearly the same height, this hug was a lot less awkward in that sense, but a lot more awkward in that Evangeline merely awkwardly patted his back as he hugged her. "I'll make you proud, mom..."

Evangeline smiled for a bit. "You're going to be a great villain one day, Harry," she said. "You better don't disappoint me!"

Negi smiled at the sight of his wife and son interacting. Usually, Evangeline was rarely that affectionate, even when it was just himself and Harry... it was clear that she'd at least grown a little attached to the son he'd forced on her. He was glad he'd made that choice, so long ago. Even if this hadn't been what he pictured his future like back then... He could say he was happy and satisfied with how it'd gone.

Even if now he was resisting the urge to cry like a baby while his son, the one he'd raised when he himself had been but a child forced to mature faster by circumstance, went to school back on their shared homeland.

"Are you sure Dumbledore said it was okay to take one of the Chacha models with you?" Negi asked, looking at his son, trying to find something to talk about so as to stem the tears in an effort to not look like a fool in front of his son. Plus, he knew Evangeline liked it when he cried on her, even if she later denied it.

"Yes. He said he could easily pass it off as a homunculus familiar," Harry said, nodding.

That was good. Neglecting his studies while he was away would've been bad.

Well, that, and every villain needed to have their trusty henchmen. Harry would be naked without at least one robot servant, at least until he could start building his evil empire within the school. Evangeline approved of his reasoning, of course. Negi simply gave up when they turned two against one on him.

* * *

><p>And so Harry sent his owl response to Hogwarts, to McGonagall.<p>

Except, instead of the usual response, he'd been coached by Evangeline into writing a properly threatening note.

He stood at the top of a recent tower that had been built into Mahora's main building, after an incident involving the most recent class 3-A and a truck full of tapioca pudding had resulted in the destruction of the old Clock Tower, with an owl resting on his arm. He knew he had to make a properly villainous move here, as per his mother's teachings. "When you get to Hogwarts, Owl, tell them that I'm coming to rule!" Harry commanded, and gestured with the arm the owl was perched in for it to move.

And it departed, its message to be delivered.

Harry giggled to himself, smiling. "That was so fun!" he said, before heading back down.

Meanwhile, as she scrying from a safe distance, Evangeline cackled triumphantly.

Negi slumped. "I'm just hoping Hogwarts will still be standing by christmas..."

* * *

><p>"Huh..."<p>

The owl hooted.

McGonagall blinked. "Maybe we should've left him with the Dursleys."

Albus Dumbledore smiled. "He's a good boy," he said, patting the head of Gryffindor on the shoulder.

"I knew Potter was sure to grow into an entitled brat, but this is ridiculous," Snape commented.

"Oh dear," Flitwick said, "Harry Potter, a villain!?"

"Merlin help us all," Sprout added.

"You're all doomed! YOU'RE DOOMED! DOOM!" Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait yelled. "DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Everyone looked at the portrait. Including the other portraits.

"Do you not see it, fools!? The Dark Evangel trained him to be her successor! Her legacy!"

At this, all the heads of house looked at each other, while Dumbledore merely smiled indulgently.

"Oh shit," Snape vocalized, and for a moment, the houses were truly united as every one felt a chill run down their spines.

* * *

><p>Interesting Notes:<p>

Harry's threatening one liner comes from one Bartuc the Bloody, also known as the Warlord of Blood, or due to a hilarious misspelling in Median XL, the Warblood of Blood. The original is "When you get to hell, Maggot, tell them that I'm coming to rule!"

It's a Legacy of Blood.

The two guys who Harry befriended are expies of Junpei and Ryoji from Persona 3. There might be an omake or two in which they're distracted by Evangeline's sheer sexiness. She does it intentionally. Evil is supposed to be sexy and tempting. And yes, this does mean that Harry attended school with Yukari as well. Fuuka's in another class, though, and Akihiko and Mitsuru are both a year ahead, so he never met them.

Also, for those of you who know me, you know that I don't like the trend that plagues Negima crossovers with practically everything.

Namely, having a crossover character drop in and instantaneously gain a harem, usually also becoming better at everything than everyone else, and overall being a gigantic Gary Stu. It doesn't help that, usually, they're also irredeemable monsters and, if not outright pedophiles, then at least borderline.

It should be clear that Harry does not have a premade harem, that he is not in a relationship with Evangeline (who is the most common crossover pairing with Negima... seriously, it's impressive how often Evangeline is paired with the self insert wearing the crossover character's skin) except the one where she is his adoptive mother, and even then, she's not his adoptive mother because she took an inexplicable interest in him, as it's so often shown.

Seriously, Evangeline wouldn't give a flying fuck about Harry. Or Britain, for that matter. Face it, guys, if Dumbledore came around asking for her help she'd just laugh in his face and tell him to go get buggered. And Dumbledore would never ask HER of all people. The only reason she does in this fic is because she grew attached AFTER Negi had already convinced to take him in. Without Negi involved, neither Dumbledore nor Harry would be able to pique her interest.

And don't tell me that they'd offer to lift her curse, because I very much doubt they can break a curse cast by Nagi, who's basically the world's strongest man on raw power alone.

So... yeah. This fic is the result of trying to make a somewhat plausible situation in which Harry would wind up in Evangeline's care.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry absent mindedly adjusted his robes on him.

He was thankful that Hogwarts had black robes for their uniform, but the fact that they were simple black robes with not much to distinguish them from any other set of robes in the world annoyed him quite a bit. This wasn't proper garb. His mother would laugh at him for wearing a dress regardless, but she'd be less mean about it if it was at least a cool set of robes.

To that end, Harry had decided to get his own set of custom robes. Because the villain needed to have the coolest clothes, and having the same plain robes as everyone else just wouldn't do. Something over the top and unique would do. To that end, instead of the robes that would cover the entirety of his body, Harry had instead opted for what amounted to a trenchcoat that could pass as a robe, in black leather of course.

He wore it open, with no shirt underneath. If you've got it, flaunt it, his mother often said, and as such, Harry found himself flaunting the body he'd gained from the martial arts training he'd undergone. After seeing his auntie Ku Fei and what she could do with just plain old physical training, Harry had been inspired, and thus joined her and his father as they practiced and trained themselves. Even if neither really needed the training, as Ku Fei was recognized as the greatest living martial arts master and his father was the most powerful mage recognized in actuality, they still trained every day, and Harry had joined them as soon as he was able.

It'd taken a long time for him to come up to any level that he considered acceptable, but hearing both his father and auntie praising him for his progress was very nice. Particularly given the fact that it was part of what little time he could share with his father, who was always busy.

All that training had resulted in Harry turning the body of what could've been a scrawny little boy into something that quite resembled his father during his youth. He had no bulging muscles, as they'd just be a nuisance, but he had a physique that promised very much when he became just a bit older.

His strange manner of dress was noticed, both in King's Cross as well as Platform nine and three quarters.

Both the normal people and the wizards and witches seemed to be quite surprised to find him, though he was thankful about the fact that they limited it to just staring. He was struggling to remember what it was he'd forgotten that morning, and distractions really wouldn't help.

"Excuse me-" someone called, behind him, and something smashed onto his back, throwing him to the ground.

Normally, this would've resulted in a few scrapes and the like, but Harry had taken rougher tumbles before with no injury, and as such, he merely raised an eyebrow as he stood back up.

"Oh shi- I'm so sorry!" a rather high pitched and frantic voice yelled, as the girl driving the cart that had tried to run him over came running to the front of her cart, clearly worried about what had just happened.

Harry looked at her. The most noticeable feature about her was her incredibly bushy hair. The only other noticeable thing were her abnormally large front teeth. Otherwise, she was somewhat plain and bland in appearance. "Oh, no, don't worry. It was an accident," Harry said with a smile that came easily to him, his manners taking over. "Here, let me help you," he said, as he lifted a few of the things that had been knocked off her cart and put them back where they belonged.

"I'm really sorry, though, I should've been watching where I was going," she said, shaking her head, "oh, I've only just crossed the gate and I'm already in trouble!"

Harry waved his hand, almost as if he could dispell her worries by doing so, smiling at her and placing a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look at him. "I told you, don't worry. It was just an accident, you couldn't have seen me there. It was my fault for standing there in the first place. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Thank you, but I really must-" she tried again, but was cut off as Harry laughed.

"Allow me to claim fault for this. It's my duty as a gentleman," he said, nodding at her.

"Thank you..." she said, with a small blush on her face. Even if her appearance was mostly plain, she did blush quite cutely. "I- err- my name- I mean- I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger..." she said, almost shuffling in place.

He smiled and nodded. "Nice to meet you, Hermione. I'm Harry Springfield," technically his name wasn't Springfield, but he didn't really care. Dumbledore had told him that Harry Potter would be recognized by name, but Harry Springfield would not, and both his mother and father had told him that being recognized and thus not allowed to move about freely was quite annoying.

"Nice to meet you, too," Hermione said with a smile.

The sound of a loud whistle caught them both by surprise, though, and she squeaked. "Ah! I've got to rush! I'll go pick a compartment... would you mind riding with me?"

"Ah, sure," Harry said with a nod and a smile. "I'm waiting for my maid to bring me my luggage, but I'll catch up with you in a minute."

"That sounds alright," she said. Hermione blushed a little once more, nodded and departed.

Harry nodded and waved at her as she left. Then he blinked and looked around oddly. "Ah... I just failed at being evil again, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did, Master," a calm, cold and robotic voice told him, as a green haired young woman wearing a french maid outfit appeared walking through the portal.

"Mother will be disappointed," Harry said, frowning slightly.

"She'd say that you are just like your father, Master," the maid said, nodding.

Shaking his head, Harry sighed. "Do you have everything?"

"Affirmative," the maid said, nodding, "shall we go?"

"Yes. Let's board the train. I'll see if I can find Hermione."

* * *

><p><strong>Villainous Comeback<strong>

**Chapter 2: Eviler Than Thou**

* * *

><p>"I've heard Harry Potter is in this train. Is that true?" a platinum blond boy asked.<p>

It really was the most striking part of him that Harry saw, as the boy stepped in his line of sight. Even though the boy was effeminately pretty, very much so, Harry had seen prettier boys before. The hair kind of reminded him of his mother's, though it was a few shades too light. Maybe closer to auntie Ayaka's hair color.

The green haired maid was stopped from progressing as two burly boys who seemed to have some troll ancestry stepped on either side of the blond.

"Yes. I am he, though I'd much prefer if you refer to me as Harry Springfield," Harry said, holding back the comment that he wished to make, about the boy's rudeness.

"Good. I am Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," the blond said. "You will soon learn that some families are better than others, Potter, and you don't want to be seen making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there, I know who all the right sort are," he said, with a smug smile on his face, offering his hand. "What do you say?"

"Right sort? Wrong sort?" Harry asked, frowning slightly in confusion. "Under which criteria are you judging people? Is it based on alignment? Are you one of those goody two shoes who discriminates against everyone who's not Lawful Good?"

"W-What?" Draco asked, clearly confused by the questions, withdrawing his hand and scratching himself just above the ear as he tried to make sense of it. "What in blazes-"

"I'm afraid I am going to have to decline, in that case. Not only is it awfully rude to exclude others based on such lousy labels as their alignment, but I can't be seen having goody two shoes as allies if I'm going to be the Final Boss who takes over the world," Harry said, nodding to himself.

"That's true, Master. Your mother and father, but mostly your mother, would be proud of your reasoning," the green haired maid said.

Harry nodded to the maid with a smile. "So, I apologize, but I am afraid I can't join your organization, or club, or group. But we can be friends, right?" he asked, patting Draco's shoulder.

"I... Think... What..." Draco said, shaking his head. "Sure. Whatever."

Harry smiled at him. "Great! Now, I did promise my new friend Hermione that I would meet with her, so I'm afraid I am going to have to cut our conversation short. Perhaps next time you could introduce me to your friends, as well?" he said, before waving. "I shall see you later, Draco!"

The maid rushed after him, leaving Draco there, looking kinda stunned.

"The hell just happened?" he asked, mostly to himself.

* * *

><p>"A toad?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly. "No, I have not seen it. My apologies, but do you mind if I help you search?"<p>

"Master. You have an appointment," the maid said.

"Ah, yes, I do. Apologies once more, but you must excuse me, for I really must be moving. It was nice to meet you, Neville, but I must depart."

And so they left, leaving a somewhat dumbfounded young boy behind.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, but is a girl named Hermione Granger here, perchance?" Harry asked, after having been invited into the compartment.<p>

"No, I don't know anyone by that name," a dark skinned boy said, replying.

"Yeah, it's just us guys here," another, this one a pale skinned redhead, said.

"Apologies for interrupting you. Cheerio!"

And so he left.

"Weird guy," one of the kids said, as they returned to their cards.

* * *

><p>"She's lying. I doubt she'd have met Harry Potter!" a shrill voice said, having been raised.<p>

Hearing his birth name being spoken, Harry turned to the conversation, and then knocked on that compartment's door. He was invited in a few seconds after, and he opened the door.

"Excuse me, but is a girl named Hermione Granger here, by any chance?" he asked, as he looked around and saw that Hermione was, indeed, seated in the compartment. "Ah, there you are! I've had to search quite a few compartments to find you. Apologies for being late," he added, nodding. "Am I interrupting anything?" he asked, seeing the odd faces looking at him.

There were four girls in the compartment. Two of them wore robes, while the others did not. One of those wearing robes was Hermione, who seemed to have changed into her robes first thing upon arrival. The three students he didn't recognize were all reasonably pretty, he mused, but it could very well be the fact that he compared them to the exceptionally plain Hermione unconsciously. Still, he had to become used to the new spectrum of hair colors. At Mahora, there was an abundance of lighter hair colors and few people had darker shades of hair. Well, at least, amongst his family. His classmates had a more subdued palette, but they were still predominantly bright.

"Not at all. Say, you wouldn't happen to be Harry Potter, would you?" one of them asked.

"Why, yes, I do so happen to be Harry Potter, although I much prefer going by my new name, Harry Springfield. It catches less attention, you see?" he said, a smile blossoming on his face.

He thought it was fun, because he couldn't go by Springfield on Mahora or anywhere with a large mage community, simply because his name would be immediately recognized and he'd be swarmed with fans of his father and in one memorable occassion, fans of his mother. And here, he couldn't go with his original name, because people thought he was some celebrity super hero.

That was just shameful. How could they believe that he, of all people, would be a hero? All his heroism was purely accidental, he'd have you know!

"Master. Shall we remain in this compartment?" a calm, robotic and monotonic voice asked.

"Well, we do have space for a few more, don't we?" asked one of the girls.

"These are designed for six seventh years to use, so yes, we do," Hermione said. "I read about it in Hogwarts, A History. Apparently, they decided to stop just short of seven, which is a very magically powerful number, as a joke."

"Granger, we know you've read Hogwarts, A History. You only told us a hundred times," one of the girls said, frowning, "seriously, we get it already."

"Sorry! It's just - I'm really nervous!" Hermione said, apologetically, "aren't any of you nervous or excited?"

"I'm a pureblood, Granger, I'm not going off away from my parents into a world I know nothing about," one of them said. "So, no, I am not."

"Same here," another said.

"I'm a halfblood, but she's my bestie," the third one said, pointing to the girl who'd spoken first, "and I was mostly raised in the magic world anyway."

"I lived in a mixed community, but both of my adoptive parents are magic users, and they can get in contact with me very easily if they need to," Harry supplied.

"I am a magitek product without a real personality. My artificial intelligence is not advanced enough to give me feelings such as anxiety and fear," his maid added.

"... Oh," Hermione said, blinking. "A-Anyway, introductions!"

"Right. Please allow me to introduce myself," Harry said, nodding. "My name is Harry James Potter, but please, just call me Harry. Springfield, if you must. Nice to meet all of you."

"Daphne Greengrass," the first speaker said, flicking her dark hair behind her as she focused her stormy grey eyes on Harry's emerald green ones. "Likewise."

The second, right next to Daphne, smiled and nodded. "I'm Pansy Parkinson. Enchanted," she said with a girlish giggle.

"Tracey Davis," the third one said, copying her friend with a grin, seeing the scowl Daphne sent her way. "the pleasure's all yours, I'm sure."

"Oh, but of course," Harry said, bowing slightly. "Ah, you wouldn't happen to be part of that group that Draco told me about, would you?"

"... That depends. Draco is notoriously unreliable when he is introducing others," Daphne said.

"He's not bad," Pansy defended him. "He's just not very smart."

"Well, look who's talking," Tracey shot at her.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't even know this 'Draco' person."

"Anyway, what group are you speaking about?" Daphne asked.

"Well, I do believe he tried to recruit me for some sort of group. He called them the 'Right' sort, so I assume it is some sort of organization devoted to the upholding of good morals and values, exemplified by those of the Lawful Good alignment. Laudable, but I'm afraid I had to decline. Far be it from me to discriminate based on alignment. As a villain, I can't truly abide organizations of goody goods attempting to subvert my rule, you understand?" he explained, taking a seat next to Tracey, while his maid took a seat next to Daphne.

"What," Daphne asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Alignments?" Hermione asked, clearly confused herself.

"I don't get it," Pansy said.

"Oooh, alignments like in Dungeons and Dragons?" Tracey asked, smiling at Harry, then looking somewhat surprised as the other three girls turned to look at her. "What? Roger plays it with his muggle friends... He got an O in muggle studies for it..."

"Something like that," Harry said, raising his hand as if to gesture to emphasize, but then deciding not to. "Ah, but look at me, I'm speaking solely of myself. I'm sure all of you have interesting stories of your own to tell."

"Potter- Springfield, are you telling me that you're trying to be a Dark Lord?" Daphne said, dropping the bomb that she'd been holding.

"That's... that's bad!" Hermione said, causing Daphne to lift an eyebrow and look at her as if she were stupid. "Yes, I know it's obvious," Hermione said, frowning at Daphne.

"Oh, no, not at all," Harry said, shaking his head. "A Dark Lord is such a small time title! I'll be the Evil Overlord!" he said, nodding to himself. "Well, I'm still working on it, anyway."

"Don't you need a proper pseudonym to be an evil Overlord?" Pansy asked. "Evil Overlord Harry just sounds a bit too... plain. You need something impressive, or at least an epithet to your name."

"Every good villain has a cool name," Harry agreed, "but I haven't been able to think of one."

"Are you two paying attention to the conversation you're having?" Tracey asked. "You're seriously talking about this."

"Well, yes, I wouldn't want to walk into this blind," Harry said, "I'd rather be prepared, and mother told me I have to build up myself on my own, since that's how she did when she was young..."

"No, no, I'm not talking about that. I mean, I have the perfect name! How about Vortigern?" she asked.

"Vortigern? What?" Pansy asked.

"King Arthur's grandfather, right?" Harry asked, tilting his head. "Sounds good. I like it. Evil Overlord Vortigern," he said, testing it.

"It's so cool!" Tracey said, giving him a thumbs up.

Daphne scoffed. "Redundancy aside, are you seriously talking about that? Harry Pot- Springfield, as an Evil Overlord? As if! You have 'Hero of the Light' written all over you."

At this, Hermione nodded. "I'm not trying to offend you, Harry, but you're really too nice to be a villain."

But instead of acknowledging her fair and logical point, Harry shook his head. "Just because I'm an evil villain doesn't mean I can't be polite, Hermione," he said. "Really, there is no excuse for rudeness."

"Too true," Pansy said.

"So says the most rude amongst us, the one who didn't even know you're supposed to give your name when you ask for someone else's. Even Draco knows THAT much!" Tracey commented.

Pansy blew a raspberry at her, before pouting and turning her head aside.

Hermione glared at them. "Am I the only one who's still living in a logical world?"

"Welcome to magic, Granger. It doesn't make a lick of sense," Daphne said, shrugging. "I gave up trying to understand it and make sense of it years ago. Trust me, you're better off just letting it go."

"But I can't! He seriously, no joking here, just declared his intention to become an evil overlord, and... and... you're not reacting at all!?" she was starting to raise her tone, so Harry lifted his hand.

"Hermione, please, don't raise your voice," Harry chided, "and... yes, I did indeed state my intended goal."

Truth be told, he didn't really understand what she was reacting so hard to. Everyone knew his mother was evil and nobody made such a big fuzz about it back at home.

"But... you're so nice, how can you be, well, evil?"

Harry laughed.

"There's no reason to be impolite, Granger. Truly, only lesser men resort to rude behavior," Pansy said. "I, for one, welcome our future Evil Overlord Vortigern."

Daphne scoffed once more. "I don't think you're gonna make it as an Evil Overlord. You're too light," she said.

"I assure you I am not," Harry said, frowning slightly. "Why, my father might be a hero, but even he understands the power of Darkness!"

"Aren't the Dark Arts all about hurting another? Frankly, that sounds like an awfully rude and mean thing to do to another," Hermione said with a frown on her face, as if challenging Harry to reconcile his niceness with his evil and his dark affinities.

"Do not confuse the so called 'Dark Arts' with the true power of Darkness, Hermione," Harry said, sagely. "The so called 'Dark Arts' have nothing to do with the element of Darkness. Instead, they are merely a classification of spells whose purpose is purely intended to be inflicting damage or otherwise hurting one's enemies, and sometimes one's allies as well. A disgrace to the name they were given, I assure you!"

At this, the other three looked at him oddly. "Oh, yes? And what, pray tell, is the true 'Darkness' you speak of?"

Harry smiled. "Why, Darkness is just that. Darkness. There's no good and evil in it. It's just power. And it's purpose, it isn't to cause harm, or destroy... No, Darkness doesn't care about such a thing. Darkness doesn't have an opposite, contrary to popular belief. There's no conflict between it and the light. The Darkness consumes everything. Good, evil, light, shadows... everything was once darkness, and everything will return to darkness."

"Huh... That IS an impressive speech about the power of Darkness. You might have it within you to become an Evil Overlord, Potter," Daphne said.

"Please, Miss Greengrass, do call me by the names I asked you to. It's embarrassing to be referred to that way by my peers," Harry said, blushing slightly with an easygoing smile.

"So... you don't practice the Dark Arts?" Hermione asked.

"Of course not. They are the height of rudeness, and an insult to both myself and my parents!" Harry said, shaking his head.

"Sorry," Hermione squeaked, worried that she had offended Harry.

"Nonsense, Hermione, you didn't know any better. You have nothing to apologize for, though I do have to ask you to keep it in mind for the future."

At this, Davis and Parkinson nodded, while Greengrass turned to Hermione. "Not everyone will be as forgiving as Harry, Granger - don't forget that it's an insult to call someone a practitioner of the Dark Arts, as it implies subservience to He Who Must Not Be Named," she explained. "Even those who were actively subservient do not wish to be reminded of that time. So I'd suggest you keep such accusations to yourself."

"It wasn't an accusation, it was an honest question," Hermione defended herself.

"Nonetheless, do try to mind your environment, Hermione," Daphne said. "Now, does anyone have the time?"

"We started moving about an hour ago, so... we've still got quite a ways."

"Good. I'm sleepy. I'm going to take a nap. Don't interrupt it," she warned, before she pulled a set of robes from behind her, which everyone now realized she'd been using as a headrest, and draped them over herself, before she relaxed in her seat.

"Ah, she might have the right idea. I did have quite a long trip on my way to London today, and I am quite tired as well. By your leave, I-"

"You don't have to leave, you know. We'll just talk quietly so you two can sleep," Tracey said.

"Oh. That does sound lovely. I'd rather not have to find an empty compartment so I could sleep," Harry said, nodding. He exchanged seats with his maid, who'd remained so silent that some might've forgotten she was there, and laid comfortably on his seat.

"Master. I shall wake you up when it is appropriate," the maid said, simply.

"You know, I'd almost forgotten she was there. Anyway, what is YOUR story?" Pansy said, turning to the maid.

"See? What'd I tell you? Rude as a knave," Tracey said, shaking her head. "Excuse me, miss, but would you mind forgiving her manners?"

"I am the master's designated Companion. It was originally supposed to be an enchanted doll that would guarantee the master's safety and attend to his needs while at Hogwarts, but due to the Mistress' inability to recall the production process of her enchanted dolls, I was chosen to accompany the young Master here as a replacement. I am here to attend to his needs, but as I am not a combat model, I cannot guarantee his safety," she explained, sitting primly and properly.

"Huh. Your voice sounds all weird and stuff," Pansy commented. "And I didn't know you could bring human servants into Hogwarts. I know some bring elves and some bring familiars with higher functions, but -"

"I am not human," the woman said, simply. "I am an android."

"What's that?" Tracey asked, curious enough to forget her own manners.

"An android is an artificial construct designed to imitate the appearance of a human being. The most advanced process allows for realistic skin and covered joints."

"So you're a very, very realistic golem? Or maybe a homunculus?" Tracey asked.

"Neither. I am an android. I was not created through a magical process," she explained, briefly.

"You're a robot?" Hermione asked, gasping softly. "But I thought it was the thing of Sci-Fi..."

"Correct," the android stated. "My creator has been producing members of the Chacha line of robots for the past thirteen years. As it is too costly and complicated still, mass production has not yet begun."

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"This is incredible... Such an amazing piece of technology here..."

"So, do you mind explaining to us non muggle-savvy folk what any of that means?" Tracey asked.

Hermione looked at them. "You have no idea that you're standing in front of something that will change the world... Okay, okay, let me try to explain..."

And so Hermione set about trying to explain to her new friends what kind of insane milestone of technology they were sitting right next to, while trying to keep her own giddy excitement out of it, as she described the possibility of robots performing the jobs that were too difficult or hazardrous for humans to do.

"So... basically, they're the muggle world's equivalent to house elves?"

Of course, this necessitated an explanation of what House elves were.

Before they knew it, as muggleborn and wizard raised traded information, the time began to fly, as the Hogwarts Express brought them ever closer to the castle that would be their home for the next seven years...


	3. Chapter 3

Hogwarts during the Feast was lively.

What feast?

Any feast.

The students were a lively bunch at any given time, but there was something about the sorting ceremony that brought out house spirit. Even in the usually sour Slytherins, the usually reticent Ravenclaws, and even the passive Puffs. The Gryffindors, of course, always relished on a chance and excuse to be boisterous and as loud as they could possibly be.

No matter what or who it was, everyone would cheer for those who were being sorted to their house. Purebloods would cheer for muggleborn, muggleborn would cheer even though they didn't know why, and even Severus Snape could be seen sporting a tiny smirk whenever a potentially promising student wound up being sent to the snake pit, to contrast with McGonagall's wide smiles regardless of the house the student was sorted to.

And as a conductor to all of this, Albus Dumbledore could not help but feel proud, as he was the one who had turned the sorting ceremony from a calm and quiet affair into the celebration it was these days. Indeed, Albus Dumbledore had encouraged the houses to cheer for their new members as a Deputy Headmaster in his time, and had eventually led to this, this celebration of house spirit.

The houses were set on their tables, they were awaiting the chance to dig into their meals, looking anxiously around. Eyes, both those who had the gleam of experience as well as the ones who shone with curiosity, as they set sights on the ceremony from the other side for the first time, darted around, taking all the sights in. The ceiling, imitating the night sky above, the walls, with their bright and colorful decorations, even the very tables, accented with the colors of the house that occupied them...

Everything was perfect.

He turned to McGonagall. "It's time," he said, giving her a nod.

McGonagall nodded, a smile on her face. This was one of the moments she most enjoyed in her life, to see the first years witnessing Hogwarts' grandeur for the first time, to see them being welcomed into their houses... It was these moments in which she was glad she had chosen to accept her promotion to Deputy Headmistress. Demanding and tough though her accumulation of jobs could be, she would never give any of them up. No, she enjoyed being looked up to by her cubs, she enjoyed being looked up to by those who would sit in the stool, wearing an oversized hat.

Perhaps, she wondered, this is what it would feel like to be a parent, proud as their child takes their first steps into the world of magic.

With a small, almost imperceptible quirk to the corners of her lips, Minerva McGonagall moved swiftly across the Great Hall, heading to where the first year children awaited for her.

Her speech was ready in her mind. Their new families, their houses, awaited them, and she would not add a further delay to this, most sacred of ceremonies.

* * *

><p><strong>Villainous Comeback<strong>

**Chapter 3: Boot to the Head**

* * *

><p>"Hm... Yes, yes, I see it in you, boy... you could be a great hero. The greatest the wizarding world has ever seen. It's all here within you, you've got the power, you've got the mind, and you've got the heart of a hero, so there's no doubt that it'll be-"<p>

"Pardon?" Harry thought, interrupting the hat. "But did you just call me a hero? I'm not a hero. I'm the villain," Harry thought, a matter of fact tone to it that couldn't really be replicated with a real voice. Sometimes, speaking in one's mind has advantages.

"Oh, but you are. It's all here, like I said. Or, perhaps you wish to remain low profile? That's another heroic quality, you know. You could be great, the greatest even. So what do you say, eh?" the hat asked.

"I'm not a hero. A hero can't take over the world," Harry replied, frowning a little. "So, do please reconsider your choice. I'd much rather go to Slytherin. I mean, the snake theme, the fact that it's populated mostly by wealthy purebloods, the fact that their dorms are in the dungeon... it practically screams 'evil villain House', so how could I go anywhere else?"

"Huh. That's an unfortunate description. You know, you might have a point about them looking like storybook villains," the hat admitted, "but it'd be hard to move them elsewhere at this point."

"That would defeat the point of me wanting to go there, wouldn't it?" Harry countered. "I don't want them to change. If I am going to be an evil villain, I need to make friends with all the obviously villainous people so that I may later use their wealth and influence to propel myself to the top. Mother said it's very important that I never use my own money for this sort of thing, that forcing others to pay for you is how a proper Evil Overlord makes his or her transactions."

"That's not good," the hat said in his head, completely deadpan.

"Of course it isn't. I'm evil," Harry countered with a bright smile on his face.

"To say that with such an expression on your face... You're too nice to be an evil overlord. It has to be Gryffindor. You've got a hero's heart beating in your chest," the hat said, almost as if daring Harry to reply.

"That could never be," Harry said, getting a bit irritated at the obstinate piece of felt. "Isn't Gryffindor the stereotypical heroic type's house? The brave knights in shining armor? What kind of evil Overlord is a heroic knight in shining armor?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You'd be surprised how many thought they were brave knights in shining armor... actually, you might be the first I come across who sets off WANTING to be an evil overlord," the hat said. "Okay, so it's not Gryffindor. Let me see a bit more..." the hat said, as it continued to dig through Harry's mind.

"Take your time," Harry said, closing his eyes, almost as if allowing the hat to peek through his head.

"Are you sure you don't want to be the slightest bit like your father? I'm sure he'd have picked Gryffindor," the hat said.

"My father is a hero, I'm not," Harry said, giving a shoulder shrug.

"Well... you've got a good example to live by in him. His loyalty is commendable, as is yours. You're not afraid to work hard either, are you? Yes, yes. You've got as much claim to Hufflepuff as you do to Gryffindor... They'd make great minions, too. Loyal and hardworking," the hat explained, and Harry could almost feel its grin within his mind.

"Image is a very important part of villainy," Harry countered. "I really do need to go to the obvious bad guy house if I am going to be an obvious bad guy."

"Isn't that kind of counter productive?" the hat asked.

"Why? I'm not trying to hide anything..." Harry said. "It's easier to do things if you're upfront."

"Well, you've got a point... That's the intellectual's approach, figuring out the simplest and most logical path. Why, a shoe in for Ravenclaw, the house of genius! What say you, then?" the hat asked.

"I don't think I'd fit amongst them. I'm not a genius," Harry said, frowning, "plus, aren't they all about knowledge for knowledge's sake? I want to use what I have..."

"Okay, fine! But don't come crying to me later if you want a resort because you don't like the dungeons! I'm giving you one last chance," the hat warned, its ultimatum clear.

"No, I'm pretty sure of my choice," Harry firmly confirmed, nodding resolutely.

"Very well, then! So it shall be, as you've declared, you shall be in SLYTHERIN!"

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Hat," he said, out loud this time, standing up and handing the hat back to McGonagall. Then he walked to the Slytherin table.

Not once did he spare a look to the thoroughly shocked audience, which remained silent for a full twenty seconds before the Slytherin table erupted into a roar of cheers.

* * *

><p>Harry bowed slightly at the three slytherin girls he'd met priorly, a smile on his face. "Hello."<p>

"Twelve minutes? That's got to be a record," Pansy said, a smirk on her face. "But of course, breaking every record there's just standard modus operandi for our lord Vortigern, eh?"

"But of course! Even records I didn't know were there," Harry said, nodding at her. He took a seat next to Tracey and opposite to Pansy, who sat next to Daphne.

"You need to work on your grand exit, though," Tracey said. "You need to have a better evil walk."

"Yes. Your clothes, too, are too simplistic. Everyone knows that a proper Dark Lord needs an overly intrincate evil armor, with spikes and all in black and everythin," Pansy said, rubbing her chin.

"I thought so, too, but this was the most they would let get away with. And even that's only because Dumbledore vouched for me. I wanted to at least get ominous, spiky shoulder pads, but it was vetoed..." Harry said, almost pouting.

"Hm... there are several new forms of clothes that muggles have developed that are not covered in Hogwarts rules. Have you thought about wearing a double breasted peacoat? It should fit the same aesthetic you're trying to create, depending on how the buttons work it would be easy to remove if it obstructs your movements, and it will look a great deal cooler than what you are wearing. Plus, it will be a great deal classier," Daphne said, nodding sagely. "I have to suggest a deep burgundy or maybe even a very dark purple. Too much black makes you look emo, not threatening."

Then Daphne noticed that all her classmates, even those not involved in the conversation, where looking at her. All, but Tracey, who sniggered a little.

"What? That thing over there," she said, gesturing to Tracey, "went through a 'wannabe goth' phase two years ago. I had to learn the difference between gothic lolita and emo to properly advise her on what would bring out her features best. Speaking of that, you really should return to those overly frilly dresses, you're the only person I've seen who can pull them off so well."

Tracey pouted at her. "I would if you agreed to paying for them. I'm not made of money. You are," she said.

"And I've told you that the reason my family is still rich is that we don't make such silly expenses," Daphne said, rolling her eyes. "But seriously, Harry, you might want to consider longer hair, as well. You're still a bit young for the 'just shagged' look to really fit you."

Harry blinked. "What's 'shagging'?" he asked.

"It's a slang term for the act of copulation," Daphne said.

"Oh," Harry said, nodding. "What's copulation?"

At this, Pansy clamped a hand over Daphne's mouth just as she opened it to speak. "I'll tell you when you need to know," Pansy said, glaring at Daphne and then reducing her tone, "Daphne, this boy is going to remain an innocent until such a time we NEED him to not be anymore. Not everyone is like you with your freakish detachment of everything. I didn't need to hear that last year, Tracey didn't need to hear it four months ago, and he doesn't need to hear it NOW, are we clear?"

Daphne scowled, but nodded. "It's pointless," she said, her voice conveying her obvious frustration.

"I know you think that, but I don't think that, and dammit, I'm not letting you ruin someone else's dellusions unless we absolutely NEED to, okay? Far as he's concerned, he just appeared one day, okay!?" Pansy said.

"Oh. Okay," Harry said, shrugging, then he turned back from the seventh year boy he'd been speaking to. "Why does nobody want to tell me..?" he asked, mostly himself.

"It's not important," Pansy said, finally. "Now, let's just eat. I'm starving!"

Harry shrugged. "It's my first time having british food. Thank you for the meal," he said, nodding to himself, before grabbing the fork with some apprehension.

* * *

><p>The food was a little heavy and more greasy than he was used to. Even though the maids at his home prepared all sorts of different food so that there was consistently varied meals, they were made by a Japanese girl aided by a girl of undetermined nationality, based on the cooking abilities of that girl of undefined nationality, and as a result, they had a clearly asian bent and preference to what they cooked. The difference was noticeable to him, but he didn't think it was bad. Just... different.<p>

He still preferred the food back at home, but it was mostly because it was his home, and he was already missing it.

A prefect lead them to their common room, giving them a small lecture as they went. The moment that he crossed the Great Hall's boundaries, there was a robotic follower behind him. He smiled a little, remembering how terribly efficient and quick the Chacha models could be. "I shall follow you to your quarters, Master," the green haired maid said, tone flat.

This caused a bit of a disturbance amongst the Slytherin students. Many instantly balked at seeing Harry Potter get special treatment. It was a fear that most of them had, that because Harry was in their house, he'd get special treatment that would annoy them greatly. Such as getting a human, and an attractive one at that, as a personal servant. Needless to say, it didn't go over well with the grand majority.

"I can't allow that. Dorms are gender segregated for a reason," the male prefect said, his face directing an ugly scowl at the obviously adult maid that followed one of the first years.

"I am registered as my master's familiar. As I am not an owl, the Owlery is not appropriate as a resting space," the maid said, looking at him quizzically, "therefore, I must spend the night at my master's bedchambers."

"So the rules for cat familiars apply, huh? Didn't know it was possible to register a human as a familiar, though... would've made my nights that much more fun," the female prefect noted, rubbing her chin. "I wonder if I can get Joey registered as my familiar?"

"She's not human," Harry said. "she's a r-"

"Highly advanced form of homunculus, and let's leave it at that, okay?" Tracey interrupted. "Granger had to give us an hour long explanation of what a robot is, Harry, we don't have the time."

"Ohhh... Hey, I wonder if I can get an alchemist to make a sexy homunculus for me..?" the female prefect questioned to herself, before shaking her head with a blush.

The male prefect blinked. "Uh... let's... let's just move on," he said, his palm meeting his face. "Okay, Potter, we'll allow it this one time, but you'll have to talk to Professor Snape about it."

Harry nodded.

"Anyway, rooms will be assigned to three people. No more. Don't forget how to enter our room. Any password change will be posted with a week's advance notice unless circumstances prevent it. Tomorrow, at six AM Sharp, there will be a house meeting. Attendance is mandatory for each and every last one of you. Within these walls, your name means nothing, your money means nothing and your ancestry means nothing. Here, you are at the bottom of the totem pole until you prove otherwise," the male prefect explained as he showed them how to open the Common Room's entrance. "If you have problems, the prefecs' names as well as their pictures are listed on that billboard," he said, entering and gesturing to his right.

As the students followed him, they all found themselves meeting exactly what they expected to be met with, silver, green and snake motifs everywhere.

The billboard was, in fact, where the prefect said it'd be. "Remember. Six AM Sharp. Every second you're late is likely to get you in Professor Snape's bad graces. Do not antagonize him. He is our biggest protection against the rest of the school and without him, you WILL be miserable, so you don't want to piss him off."

"Master, do you want me to wake you, or should I set a different alarm clock?" the maid asked, turning to Harry.

"You will do," Harry said, nodding. "I am quite sleepy, as this has been quite a long day. I haven't had a chance to get a real rest. Would you mind too much if I retire for the night?"

"Go ahead, Potter, your room's the one with your name on the plaque. These are permanent, so get used to it," the male prefect said.

"Oh ho, and if you're feeling naughty and want to go out after lights out, remember: We will know, and you're going to be punished! So don't do it... or rather, do it. I want to try my hand at making the ickle firsties cry like the babies they are! They're just so cute..." the female prefect said, hugging herself and wiggling in place as she did.

Shivers went down most everyone's spines.

"What is WRONG with you!?" the male prefect questioned.

"Well, you haven't put out in MONTHS, and I have needs too, you know!" she said, glaring at him.

"There are firsties here for Merlin's sake! You're all dismissed, go to sleep or play with your dollies or whatever it is you firsties do!" the male prefect yelled, making wild gestures with his hands. The firsties did clear out, though at a slower pace than he'd hoped, clearly.

"Is this because I pushed a finger up your-" the female prefect started to say, before she was silenced with a spell.

"What was Snape thinking when he made YOU of all people prefect!?"

"That she is going to be an extremely good disciplinarian of first year students," a slow, grim and commanding voice spoke.

A man in robes as dark as the night swept into the room, his robes billowing behind him as he did. His eyes were closed, but his expression betrayed nothing more than perfect calm and control of his every feature.

"So cool..!" Harry gushed, as he stared with wide, awed eyes at the entrance of the man who no doubt had to be the 'Professor Snape' that was supposed to head Slytherin.

The image of calm and collected aloofness was broken when the man found himself thoroughly shocked at that pronounciation. "What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and glaring at the first years that remained, before his eyes focused on Harry. "What did you say, Potter?"

"Ah, my name's Springfield, sir. No offense to my birth parents, but I didn't grow up with them," Harry said, almost apologetically.

"Tch," Snape frowned, "whatever," he said, taking a deep breath. "What did you say, Springfield?"

"I want to learn how to do that, sir! It'd give me the ability to perform the dramatic entrance that any villain worth their salt is capable of doing! Mother never told me how she got her clothes to billow like that or reflect moonlight even though they were matte black," he said, frowning as he remembered the time spent pestering his mother into teaching him how to properly pull off the theatrics of villainy. "And father cheats to do his, since he has wind spirits do it for him," he said, frowning in distaste as he remembered the incredible amounts of time he spent trying to acquire that same skill to no avail.

"Just... just go to sleep," Snape said, shaking his head. "I am too tired to deal with whatever insanity you've cooked in that thick dunderhead skull of yours right now."

"Perhaps later, then," Harry said, clearly disappointed. "My apologies for bothering you, sir."

Snape looked at him for a few seconds before he turned around and walked away.

"Well, that was awfully rude," Harry said, crossing his arms and pouting. "Not even a 'by your leave'..."

"That's Professor Snape for you. This is him on a good mood. Normally, he'd have assigned detention to a firsty bothering him," the male prefect said. "Tomorrow, you'll learn the basic rules you're going to have to abide by in Slytherin house, and the code of conduct we expect you to follow. You'll also learn how to handle yourself around Professor Snape, so then you can see how to properly make a request of him. I wouldn't bother with THAT one, though. Nobody's ever managed to drag the secret out of how he does that thing with his robes out of him," he continued, a small smile on his face. "Good luck on your attempt, though."

"Silence me, will you!?"

The male prefect paled.

Harry shrugged. "Excuse me," Harry said, bowing slightly and departing to his room, as had been his intention quite a while ago.

* * *

><p>Harry's room was shared by Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. The former's name he thought was very girly and the latter's name which reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who. Might've had to do with some of his history lessons on the Magic World, but he couldn't recall those for the life of him. It wasn't his fault, after all, nobody had ever really put a big emphasis on the recent past when teaching him.<p>

Whether it be because people didn't want to remember or because they didn't want to feel his head with tales about their heroism, Harry didn't know, nor did he really care all that much. History wasn't very fun.

As he entered his room, he thought of introducing himself and bowed slightly to them to do so. "Hello. I am Harry Springfield, pleased to meet the both of you," he said, smiling at his new roommates. He almost felt like stepping back out when he noticed how unfriendly the faces of the two already in the room were.

He was thankful for the reassuring presence of the robotic maid behind him. He knew that while asleep he was defenseless, but she didn't need to sleep. This was the evil badguy house, and he wouldn't put it past anyone here to be a treacherous little weasel. It was just to be expected that in every evil group there would always be a traitor waiting for a chance to stab you in the neck while you're asleep.

It just made sense, and was common etiquette. Of course, just because it made sense didn't mean that Harry wanted to be the schmuck who got stabbed because he hadn't thought to put protections around himself.

Both of them scoffed at him. "Theodore Nott," the pale skinned, dark haired one said, sitting on the bed furthest to the wall, while on the one in the middle, facing him, sat the other one, with darker, almost olive-toned skin, whom Harry assumed to be Blaise.

"Blaise Zabini," the other one introduced himself, confirming Harry's thoughts.

They'd been both incredibly rude, and clearly dismissive of him. Harry frowned internally, but tried to not let their rudeness get to him. "Okay. I'll take the free bed, then."

No further words were exchanged that night, as Harry quickly went to sleep. Even having had a nap, he was still quite exhausted from the long flight to London followed by the long train ride.

Still, Harry sighed, at least they could be the least bit polite.

"Hm... You're Potter's maid, right?" one of them asked. Harry couldn't quite distinguish the voice as he was already falling asleep.

"I am the young master's personal maid."

* * *

><p>Despite his tiredness the earlier morning, Harry found himself being thrown back into the land of the living at five thirty.<p>

The Chacha models, as a rule, tended to be smart enough to be passed as human servants in some occassions. And it showed, as instead of being woken up at Six AM, Harry had been woken up at five thirty, so that he would be ready at six. It was these times that Harry thought that Hakase was underappreciated, wherever she was. That kind of genius and foresight was a lifesaver and so convenient that Harry could hardly imagine life without it. He could mostly blame his extremely lazy mother for it, but he wouldn't complain about the maids looking after him.

Particularly after they stopped having cold fingers. It was hard to enjoy someone scrubbing his back if they had hard and cold metal fingers. The warm, realistic skin most of them wore nowadays had Harry enjoying their attentions a great deal more than before.

His rommates were both still asleep, and as such, he decided to make as little noise as possible as he went about getting ready for the day. Admittedly, it was a great deal easier when you weren't doing most of it yourself. Harry's laziness regarding his personal hygiene was deeply rooted and aided by the terrible role models that were his lazy mother and his father who seemed to have a terrible aversion to bathing himself. At least their maids were programmed to not allow them to go dirty. Even half asleep as he was, Harry found himself washed squeaky clean in fifteen minutes. He was thankful for the fact that the dorms had attached bathrooms. Wandering the dungeons after lights out was forbidden, after all, and quite dangerous if you didn't know where you were going. Hogwarts' dungeons were old school labyrinthine, with lots of dead ends.

Wouldn't be such a problem if they didn't pretend to be paths towards the exit. And if the doors opened when they should. And if the walls stopped pretending to be doors. And if they were properly lit.

Okay, so there were a lot of reasons why it would be difficult to navigate the dungeons without an experienced guide until you'd mapped them out yourself.

Which was all the more reasons to be thankful that he didn't have to.

As six approached, Harry was quickly and impeccably dressed, in an outfit similar, but not quite identical, to what he'd worn to the feast. He now had a shirt. It was a compromise, because it was kinda chilly, but he didn't want to lose the factor of 'obvious villainy' that dressing like he did brought along.

Still, he'd have to look into Daphne's suggestions. It figured that she'd know a lot better about what would look good on him than he himself would. It just made sense.

Come five to six, Harry moved out of the room, dutifully followed by his attendant, and found a place to sit on the common room, expertly ignoring the eyes that settled on him, as he waited.

Soon enough, Professor Snape would show up. The ground rules were important. After all, he had to know what was wrong before he could do it.


End file.
